Falling
by Hutch-is-gorgeous
Summary: This fanfic has the story-thread of falling.


This is one of my stories that needed more help from a beta-reader than some of my other stories. Thank you Sparkle7311 for assisting me in making this story better than it was. Any mistakes, though, are my fault. Also, this story takes place in the summer of 1981.

Story title: Falling

Hutch was rummaging through his toolbox. He needed a medium flat-head screwdriver to do some work on his greenhouse.

He finally gave up searching for one and drove to his favorite hardware store to buy a replacement. Although from now on, if someone asked if they could borrow a tool of his, he would make sure they returned it in a reasonable amount of time.

At the store, having just gotten out of his Ford Galaxie, he tripped over the concrete curb he'd parked next to and fell forward into the gravel landscaping. Instinctively, he threw out his hands to break his fall. Since he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved corduroy shirt, the only injuries to his arms and legs were some bruises. Lucky for him in that aspect. Because although the bruises hurt, worse off were the palms of his hands. They were severely scraped. And already so stiff, swollen, and sore and were leaking blood. He could hardly move them! Not that he wanted to.

But as he struggled to sit up so he could further assess his injuries, he remembered when he'd fallen, he hadn't avoided hitting the bottom of his chin on the gravel. The sliced open skin was dripping blood down the front of his shirt- He groaned at that, because as far as he knew, no one liked to have to get stitches, including yours truly. At least he didn't think he'd fractured his chin. Although right now it sure felt like it!

####

He was no longer sporting a mustache, when suddenly a bearded man and at least thirty years older, knelt down in front of him. The man had seen what had happened to him and decided to help. Which was okay with Hutch until the stranger began to unbutton his shirt.

"Wa? Wa? What are you doing that for?" Hutch asked, sounding dumbfounded and embarrassed about it. He tried to stand to get away from the unwanted attention.

"Get back here, you youngster! After I'm through unbuttoning that shirt, I'm taking it off you, wadding it up in a ball and pressing it on the cut on your chin to stem the bleeding. Whaddidya think? I was going to take off my own shirt and do that and get it all ruined?"

"Um. No…no," Hutch stammered in a subdued tone.

Afterwards Hutch shut up because talking made his whole head hurt. He'd never before had such an awful headache! When the older man got done unbuttoning the shirt, he pressed the ball of clothing on the cut.

Quickly changing his mind about not talking anymore, "Ow! That hurts too!" Hutch complained.

"Oh, quit your bellyaching. It can't hurt that bad. "

"Says you!" Then "Ow!"

"Guess it hurts that bad after all. I'm sorry about that! Ah…you need to make an incident report," The older man stated. Taking a hold of one of Hutch's elbows with his free hand, he helped Hutch to his feet and guided him to the entrance door of the store.

They were only a few feet from making it inside the store when they were met by another human being. This one was about 17-years-old, with lots of light-brown freckles on her face and wearing a blue apron with Merv G's Hardware Store printed in white on it. One of these days Hutch would get around to asking someone if the G stood for Griffin, "Stop right there! Our policy is no shoes is okay, but no shirt and you can't enter the store!" the female employee sternly informed them.

Hutch got brave enough to boldly mention to her, "But Miss. I hurt myself on this property and this other man here said I need to make an incident report." Then he shut his trap again because it really was too painful to continue to talk.

Plus, his palms were throbbing painfully. He'd actually had bullet wounds that hurt less than this! His palms were still stiff, swollen and bleeding too. They were scraped with chunks of skin missing from them.

It would sting like crazy, but the wounds needed to be washed with soap and warm water, patted dried with a clean towel and antibiotic ointment put on them. Next, some sterile, white gauze wrapped around the entirety of his hands and hope in time they would heal without any complications.

In the meantime, he figured the best thing to do to catch the blood flowing out of his palms was to gingerly place them on the front of his jeans. But he winced doing that too. He truly wasn't being a sissy, cause it…well…it really did hurt a lot!

The teen switched gears from being stern to being sympathetic. "You poor thing! Go sit down on that lawn chair over there and I'll go inside the store and get the head manager for you." Then she added, "You. Whoever you are. You go with him and keep applying pressure to the bottom of his chin with that shirt."

Both men did as she'd instructed them to do. As Hutch settled into the lawn chair, he was surprised to see Starsky pull up behind his Ford Galaxie and park the Torino. Getting out of the red car with a white vector stripe and without hurting himself, _How did he know I was here?_ Hutch wondered.

####

"No offense," Hutch said to the good Samaritan who had helped him. "But you're still pretty much a stranger and that's my best friend who just ran over to me. He can take it from here."

"Robbie is my name, but sure, no problem. You take care of yourself, youngster."

Starsky grinned as he obliged taking over being Hutch's caretaker. But not without Starsk first saying to Hutch, "What did you do? Have one of your klutzy moments and fall?"

###

At the store, they made as fast of an incident report as possible, at the hospital Hutch was treated for his wounds. But when they got back to Venice Place, he mumbled something about it was one thing that Starsky was going to have to shave him, feed him and do some other things for him. What with how sore his hands still were, and with the gauze wrapped completely around them. But he'd rather spend days in a desert without water than for Starsky to have to wipe his butt after he used the toilet!

At the hospital he'd been given a tetanus shot in his right arm. He'd had them before without any side effects, so he wasn't expecting any this time. Yet later in the day he'd developed swelling and tenderness at the injection site. He still was able to move his arm though, so he didn't say anything to Starsky about it.

It was, however, approaching four pm when he asked Starsky to help him locate the thermometer. In reaction to that, the brunet placed the back of his left hand on Hutch's forehead and announced, "Ya don't need no thermometer when I can tell you're running a fever. At least right now it's a mild one but let me get you some extra strength aspirin anyway."

An hour later Hutch said he didn't think he had a fever anymore, but the injection site was still swollen and tender. There was pain in his joints. He had muscle aches. He was tired. Plus, he was nauseous and dizzy, and he better go lie down on his bed. That or go from standing to falling down on the floor!

"No falling down again!" Starsky warned. Picking Hutch up in his arms, and carrying him to the bed, and sitting him on the edge of the mattress. Where he'd found the strength to carry him, neither of them knew, but neither man was complaining about it.

To prevent Hutch from tipping forward and falling face first on the floor and needing yet more stitches, Starsky helped him lie down on his left side.

"Feels like I have the flu."

"No, ya don't. Have the flu that is. Remember you're just having some side effects from the tetanus shot ya were given. But if ya think you can keep from throwing them up, I'll give ya some more aspirin. Then if ya can keep that down, I'll have Huggy bring ya some homemade chicken noodle soup. Only 'cause I agree with ya that that stuff in a can don't taste the same as homemade," he said, then grinned at Hutch and affectionately patted his shoulder. "Try to go to sleep now, Blintz."

"Can't if you don't turn off that light over there."

"Oh yeah. You're right," Starsky replied. Turning around, he walked over to the light and flipped the switch. "Is there anything else I can do to help you fall to sleep?"

"Cover me up with a blanket," Hutch responded. And with his bangs having fallen over his forehead, he looked extra vulnerable. More like a little boy than a man.

"Your wish is my command. Or in plain English, I'll swiftly do what you want."

###

Now that he had Hutch covered up, leaving his right arm on top of the blanket, Starsky also thought to put a cold compress on the swollen spot where Hutch had gotten the tetanus shot.

After some time passed and Hutch was able to keep the aspirin down, "I still feel like I have the flu. You sure it's just the side effects from the tetanus shot?"

"I'm sure. Now try to go to sleep. Will ya? I love ya and more than my own ma! But you're getting on my nerves."

"Sorry about that," Then "Ow!"

"What's wrong!?" Starsky sounded as alarmed as he felt.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. It just hurts to talk. My chin has stitches in it you know, and it still feels like it's fractured. Though I know it isn't."

"What ya want me to do? Kiss it and make it all better?"

"You'd do that for me? Aw. How sweet." Then "Ow!" Followed by, "Sorry. It hurts to talk."

"Then don't do it. Now go to sleep before I go to your toolbox, get the hammer that I saw in it, and clonk ya over the head with it. That would sure put you out for the rest of the night and then some!"

Hutch frowned at that and finally fell to sleep.

The next day, though he still felt like he had the flu, he felt better enough for Starsky to feed him some of Huggy's homemade chicken noodle soup.

The End


End file.
